


Let Me Count the Ways (You Make My Days)

by chalantness



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Birthday Sex, F/M, Happy Birthday Bucky Barnes!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 16:26:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13930836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalantness/pseuds/chalantness
Summary: He trusts that he can handle it, because he trustsher.That means so much more than she could ever express, but she hopes that tonight she’ll come close to it.





	Let Me Count the Ways (You Make My Days)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mustang_Girl16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mustang_Girl16/gifts).



> I wanted to put something together for Bucky Barnes’s birthday (March 10) and also I just missed writing these two!

Natasha is the one to remind her, and even then, she’d known it had been a slip of the mouth.

She’s not surprised that James would want to keep his birthday to himself. Well. That’s not entirely true. She’s certain that they all must know what today is – it’s listed in the basic information of his file – and she knows that James had told her quite some time ago, but she’d forgotten. That had probably been the point. He hadn’t wanted to make anything of it then and she’s certain he doesn’t want to make anything of it now. He’s in a far better place physically, mentally, _emotionally,_ than he’s been in the last few decades, and she doesn’t want to upset him by bringing up the past. But still. He’s gotten through another year. He’s healthy, and _happy_ , and he tells her all the time that this is the calmest he’s felt in years.

 _That_ is something worth celebrating, and she hopes James will agree.

“Is everything alright, doll? You seem distracted,” James says, and it makes her heart flutter to know that, even over the phone, he’s so attuned to her. Usually it’s the other way around – usually _she’s_ the one drawn in by everyone else’s emotions, pulling at their strings – but James has a hold that’s so much stronger, so much _better_. He understands what she’s thinking and what she’s feeling because he understands _her_. He doesn’t need to let himself inside her head to know what to say, what to do. He just knows, and she loves it.

She loves _him._

“I’m just excited for you to be home, is all,” she tells him, her smile widening when she hears him groan playfully over the line.

“How am I ever supposed to leave your side when you say things like that?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” she teases (well, half-teases) as she twists the cap of her lip gloss back into place, setting it on her vanity as she takes in her reflection. She feels her cheeks warm, remembering how she had practically flushed down to her toes when Natasha practically dragged her into her favorite lingerie boutique the other day. The lacy, white negligee Natasha picked out for her is sheer and thin and _small_ , baring far more skin than Wanda has ever been accustomed to, and she knows how ridiculous it is that she feels embarrassed.

Well. Perhaps that isn’t the right word, because it’s not as if she feels uncomfortable. She feels _sexy_ , and she knows that’s what’s flustering her right now, which is incredibly _silly_.

James has seen her _naked_ , and the first time he’d laid eyes on her, she hadn’t felt an ounce of insecurity. His gaze had been far too clouded by lust and awe to make her feel anything other than adored. He calls her sexy quite often, and she believes him, of course. But she’s never _tried_ to be sexy for him. She’s never dressed up for him like this and she—

She just doesn’t want to look ridiculous.

“I’m heading out now,” he tells her, which, yes, she already knew. She may or may not have asked Steve to text her when they were finished debriefing. “Want me to pick up dinner?”

“I have it taken care of. Just come home to me, okay?”

“Always,” he replies, not missing a beat, and it makes her stomach flutter. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she says, and she knows he can hear how widely she’s smiling, because he’s chuckling as he hangs up. She doesn’t care if she sounds eager. She _is_ eager, and she’s not embarrassed that he can tell.

She sets her phone down and slips herself into one of James’s dress shirts, then opens the drawer of her vanity and pulls out his military tags, and her heart does this giddy little flip in her chest as she drapes them around her neck. Regardless of what he thinks of her lingerie, she knows he’ll appreciate the sight of her in his shirt and tags alone, and she already feels far more comfortable now that she’s wearing them. He’d barely let her out of bed the last time she had them on, and when they finally made their way into the kitchen late that next morning, he drizzled maple syrup on her skin and took his time licking her clean, their breakfast long forgotten as he laid her across the kitchen floor and made love to her yet again.

She bites the inside of her lip, her cheeks flushing at the memory. Every muscle in her body had been sore, but in the best way possible, and she’d reassured him over and over that he didn’t need to apologize for it. She loves how he wants to be gentle with her, but she loves it when he just loses himself in her, too. He’d never, _ever_ hurt her on purpose, and she knows this. He’s always so focused on keeping his composure and control, but he feels comfortable enough to let go with her. He trusts that he can handle it, because he trusts _her_.

That means so much more than she could ever express, but she hopes that tonight she’ll come close to it.

... ...

She’s just finished pouring their wine when she hears his footsteps come to a stop in front of their door, his keys chiming as he unlocks the door. She’s not holding her breath, exactly, but it sort of gets caught in her throat as he steps through the threshold. He’d only been gone for four days this time, but she will always, always love it when he comes home.

He pauses when he sees her, his lips still pulled in a smile even as he raises his eyebrows, taking in the sight of the living room. She’s moved the furniture, spread one of their plush blankets across the floor and piled the pillows from their bed on top of it. She’s turned off the rest of the lights in the apartment, letting the glow of the twinkling lights she’s draped from the ceiling and the warm hues of the afternoon light filtering in from the window illuminate the room. She stands from the blanket, a glass of wine in each hand as she crosses the room, and she smiles a little wider as his gaze falls to the military tags at her neck. Then his eyes slides downward, growing darker as they take in her negligee and thigh-high socks.

“Welcome home.”

His eyes lift to meet hers, and her stomach flips at the intensity she finds in them. The _hunger_. “Is that what this is all about?” he asks, accepting the glass of wine she offers him.

She gives a little shake of her head. He’s playing along, and the nerves she’d felt about him not liking his surprise dissolve in an instant, replaced with a warmth unfurling low in her stomach. “No.” She steps closer, stretches up on her toes and brushes her lips against the corner of his mouth. “Happy birthday, James.”

His hand comes around her hip, squeezing, and she kisses the corner of his mouth again before pulling away ever so slightly, clinking her glass with his. He chuckles softly, holding her gaze as they both take a sip of their wine. Then she curls her hand around his and pulls him forward, tugging him to sit down on the blanket with her. He glances at the dark chocolate cake, his lips twitching at the corners, and somehow she already knows what he’s about to do as he sets his wine on the table then swipes his fingers through the frosting. She narrows her eyes at him playfully and he _laughs_. “What? It’s my birthday, isn’t it?” He reaches forward, making her gasp as he smudges the frosting over her neck, her pulse tripping. “ _Mm_.”

“James,” she breathes. She’s wearing _white_.

But the sparkle in his eyes is absolutely devious, and she realizes that she simply _doesn’t care_ about the pretty penny she dropped on her lingerie. She’ll get it cleaned.

He _winks_ , licks the frosting from his fingers before tangling them into her hair, combing it back. Her hand trembles as she sets her wine glass aside, and she grasps into his shirt, twisting the material in her grip as he teases his lips along the line of her jaw. She can feel where the frosting is sticking to the curve of her neck, and she knows that James is being careful to avoid it, making her squirm. He peppers soft, barely there kisses to the top of her throat, then slides his lips up and licks at the lobe of her ear. She lets out this little noise from the back of her throat as he starts nibbling at her skin, suckling, still avoiding the frosting he’s smeared against her neck. He knows that she’ll be particularly sensitive there.

He hooks an arm around her waist, pulling her onto his lap, her legs straddling his hips. He’s hard and she can feel it against the thin lace of her panties.

She tucks his fingers into the short hair at the back of his head, gripping, needing something to anchor herself as his lips continue to nip and tease, driving her _crazy_.

“ _James_ ,” she whines.

He shushes her with a gentle chuckle, cradles the back of her head. “I’m enjoying my birthday cake,” he murmurs against her skin, and then he finally, _finally_ , licks the flat of his tongue through the half-melted frosting on her neck. Her lips part in a gasp as she tightens her hold on his hair.

He laps at her skin in slow, broad strokes, sure to catch every bit of frosting, and she’s not quite sure why something so simple and playful is turning her on so much. James loves to nuzzle against her neck, loves to pull her in close and tuck his face into the curve of her shoulder and pepper pulse with kisses. It’s something she should be used to, and while it’s always turned her on, it’s never been quite like _this_. She feels as if her every nerve is tingling, as if every muscle in her body is melting. Her breaths are uneven, her body trembling.

“You alright there, darling?” he teases, gently lowering her against the pillows and kneeling above her, one hand braced against the floor. He dips his head between the low cut of her negligee, making her breath catch as he kisses between her breasts. She’s not wearing a bra, and the lace of her lingerie scrapes against her nipples with every little move.

“This is supposed to be about _you_ ,” she points out, her voice breathy and thin.

“Oh, trust me. It is.” He picks up a chocolate-covered cherry from the top of his cake and lowers it to her lips, and she takes it between her teeth as he plucks the stem off, tossing it aside. She rolls the cherry over her tongue, letting the chocolate melt, and he groans and juts his hips against her thigh. “ _Fuck_ ,” he murmurs, and she can’t help the giggle that leaves her lips as she chews on the cherry in her mouth. He sounds every bit as turned on as she is, just from licking a little bit of frosting off of her skin, and it makes her feel even sexier.

He arches an eyebrow at the sound of her giggle, shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it aside. Then he pulls his shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor, and she can’t quite help herself. She leans up and licks at his chest, the taste of his skin mingling with the sweetness of the cherry and the rich flavor of the chocolate still on her tongue. His body rumbles in a low groan and her lips curve into a smile against his skin, nipping at the taut muscles of his abdomen, then peppering wet, open-mouthed kisses upward. Her mind is still buzzing from his laps of his tongue against her skin, and now the taste of him, the hard press of his length she slides her hand over the front of his jeans, is making her head spin. She needs him.

She needs him _now_.

She reaches for the buckle of his belt, fingers fumbling to get it undone, and she’s just barely pulled it open when James gently tugs at the chain of his tags around her neck. She tips her head back to meet his gaze, her stomach coiling at the dark, stormy look in his eyes as he guides her to lay back down. Her legs fall open, and a small, breathy moan slips from her lips as he tucks his fingers under the hem of one of her thigh-high socks, gently peeling it aside. He curls forward, presses a kiss to the skin he’s just exposed. She whines his name.

“You want me here,” he asks, sliding his hand between her legs and stroking over the damp front of her panties. “Don’t you?”

She nods, rolling her hips into his palm. He chuckles, his hands sliding under the hem of her negligee and wrapping around the thin waistband of her panties. She lifts her hips, letting him slide them down her thighs, and he tosses them aside as her legs fall open again.

She grasps at his jeans, tugging them down with his boxers and then digging her nails into his skin, trying to draw his hips to hers. He groans as his length brushes against her slick folds, his forehead falling against hers as he grasps at the plush material of the blanket, twisting it between his fingers. She hooks her legs around him, rolling her hips, and a shudder ripples down his spine as her wet warmth slides over his hard length, teasing the both of them. “ _Wait_ ,” he groans, stalling his hips. She _whimpers_. “The room. The condoms. We—”

She shakes her head, wrapping her fingers around him. “Like this. I want it like this.”

He blinks, once, twice, three times, giving her a look that she shouldn’t find so adorable considering what they’re in the middle of doing. “What?”

“Touch me,” she commands – _pleads_ – because his hands are still on the blanket and not on her and she’s this close to crying out in frustration. He complies, sliding a hand up her body and tucking it into the dip of her lingerie, cupping one of her breasts. He rolls his thumb over her nipple and she arches into his palm. “I want all of you, James.”

 _I want to feel all of you_ , she means, and she knows he understands. _I want all we can have together_.

Something flashes behind his eyes and he nods, pressing at her entrance. “I love you,” he groans, and before she can say the words back, he’s pushing into her slowly and her spine is arching off of the floor, her body wrapping around his.

He curses something under his breath, his body tensing as he bottoms out, and she knows he feels as overwhelmed as she does. She can feel it in the way his body is shaking, in the way his shoulders are heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His hand absently squeezes around her breast, making her whimper as his fingers tug at her nipple, sending a jolt straight down her spine. He pauses, no doubt thinking that he’s hurt her as he starts to pull his hand off, but she whines and wraps a hand around his wrist, keeping his hand in place.

It belongs on _her_. His hands always belong on her.

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, as if hearing her thoughts. He starts kneading her breast in his hand as he moves his hips, pulling out of her slowly. She can feel _everything_ , every press and pull of him against her sensitive, slick folds, every inch of him as he sinks back in, and she wonders if he can feel her heart trying to beat out of her chest.

He leans down to kiss her as his thrust start to quicken, his tongue sliding past her lips, and she doesn’t care that her lungs are starting to ache, needing air. She just wants to keep kissing him, to be touched by him, to be connected to him in every way possible. She digs her nails into the muscles of his back, scratching them down as she rolls her hips into his thrusts. He reaches behind, grasps one of her ankles and presses her legs apart, opening her up wider, sinking in deeper, and then he’s brushing against that sweet spot that makes her gasp and toss her head back. He nips at her lower lip, the underside of her jaw, and then his tongue is teasing against her neck again as he starts nibbling and suckling her skin.

“ _Shit_ ,” he groans, reaching between them and massaging the pad of his thumb over her clit. Her entire body jolts, and she lets out a long, keening moan. He circles and circles over her little bundle of nerves, her walls fluttering, her stomach tightening.

“ _James_ , James.”

She’s there, she’s _right there_ , and he presses his mouth to hers in a kiss as he drives her right toward that dizzying edge.

She comes undone with a sharp cry muffled against his lips, her entire body is trembling, shaking. His hips start to slow but don’t quite stop, either, each thrust pressing against that sweet spot and dragging out her high.

He lets out a hot, heavy breath, breaking their kiss and letting out a low groan as another shudder ripples through his body. Her chest is heaving, her lungs burning as she tries to catch her breath, but she can feel him still hard inside of her, still grasping onto the last threads of his control, and that a fresh warmth unfurls low in her stomach. She pushes his shoulders and rolls them over, and he lets out a sharp hiss, grasping at her hips as she settles herself on top of him. Then his breaths taper off into a laugh as she leans forward, kissing his chest.

“How do you always have so much energy?” he asks, and she giggles, nips at his skin before drawing herself up. She lifts her hips, braces her hands against his chest as she sinks back down, and she relishes in the way his jaw clenches, the way his hands grip onto her hips even tighter. There’ll probably be bruises in the morning, and she knows that while he won’t try to apologize for them – she won’t let him anymore – he’ll be sure to kiss every single one before pressing his face between her legs, making her fall apart and again on his tongue.

“ _Easy_ ,” she coos, pulling a dark chocolate chunk from the side of his cake and feeding it to him. He hums, licks at the pad of her thumb as she pushes the piece of chocolate past his lips.

Then she grasps the stem of her wine glass, tipping it forward and letting a few drops fall to his chest.

He flinches at the sudden cold, murmurs, “ _fuck_ ,” when she curls forward and licks at the bittersweet liquid on his skin. She presses open-mouthed kisses up his chest, along his neck, against his jaw, and then she’s kissing him on his lips, letting the sharp taste of the wine on her tongue mingle with the sweetness of the chocolate on his.

Then she pulls away, lifting her hips and sinking back over him, and he groans out a laugh, fingers digging into her hips. “Don’t think I’ll live to see another year at this rate, doll.”

She giggles, setting a hand against his heart. She can practically feel it thrumming under her palm.

“Then I better make this a birthday to remember.”

**Author's Note:**

> “6. Her legs spread to welcome him. + 20. A small moan escapes my mouth. + 50. Your strong hands belong on me.” – requested by gomustanggirl16 for my six sexy (secret) words meme; I know your original prompt was for Valentine’s Day, but since I missed that I made it for Bucky’s birthday instead
> 
> “40. You want me here. Don’t you? + in the light of the afternoon” – requested by an anon for my six sexy (secret) words meme
> 
> also inspired by [this gif](http://78.media.tumblr.com/89b6949b0894e2ea7026b58db1c59018/tumblr_np4jnmPKYM1qjx6n6o2_500.gif) of Elizabeth Olsen


End file.
